


Dimeritium

by GilliganGoodfellow



Series: Jaskier’s Monster [9]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Families of Choice, Flowers, Found Family, Gen, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Being an Idiot, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jaskier | Dandelion Needs a Hug, Lambert Triss and Eskel are banned from Lettenhove, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Parent Vesemir (The Witcher), Protective Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Soft Lambert (The Witcher), Suicidal Thoughts, Yes I know the outside greenhouse is broken in canon lets ignore that, pappa vesemir, season 2 spoilers POSSIBLY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24240634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GilliganGoodfellow/pseuds/GilliganGoodfellow
Summary: After the Dragon Hunt, and Triss's death at Sodden Hill, Jaskier was determined to run away from the world. And he did, for a while. But then he was found by Yennefer and Chireadan, and then by Vesemir and Lambert.And now he is back in Kaer Morhen...seeing Geralt for the first time since the mountain. And the Witcher can barely look at him.Oh and Triss is alive...worth mentioning---OR yet another "Jaskier and Geralt after the dragon hunt" fic <3 <3
Relationships: Chireadan/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Chireadan, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Eskel & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier & Everyone, Jaskier | Dandelion & Lambert, Jaskier | Dandelion & Triss Merigold, Jaskier | Dandelion & Vesemir, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Jaskier’s Monster [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1606360
Comments: 90
Kudos: 485





	1. Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> I managed to get major writers block over this one, BUT I think I have the story clear in my head now <3

Ciri laughs as she dodges backwards, blocking each of Geralt’s blows with her practice sword. 

Realising that she is reaching a wall, she darts forward, diving between the Witcher’s legs and quickly coming up behind him, her blade against his waist as he turns.

She pulls the blade back and shoves it forward again, stopping just before Geralt’s throat.

“Good.” Geralt smiles as he slowly moves the blade to one side with his hand. “You were right. Cintra does train well.”

Ciri’s smile falls, and she looks down. 

“Ciri?”

“I miss Cintra. All of it. Them. Grandmother. Grandfather. Mousesack. Even Martin.” She makes a sound like a chuckle under her breath, and Geralt knows that it is to cover up a sob. 

She wipes at her eyes, then looks up at him. “You said that you saw my grandmother?”

He nods.

“How did she die?”

Geralt shakes his head, kneeling down in front of Ciri and looking into her eyes. 

“She...” He looks away for a moment, thinking, then sighs. “She knew that the Nilfgaardians might force her to betray you. She chose not to give them the chance.”

Ciri nods, swallowing back tears. “Did it hurt?”

“Any pain would have been quick.” Geralt shakes his head, then pats Ciri’s shoulder. “Back to training. Maybe you have a technique you can teach ME.”

“There’s one my Grandfather taught me. Skelligan shield bash...we’ll need shields.”

“Go look in the armoury.”

Ciri nods, obediently making her way to the store while Geralt slowly follows, listening to the world around them. He can hear Eskel preparing food in the main hall. He can hear the pages of Triss’s book turn as she sits on the balcony above them. And in the distance, he can hear horse hooves. 

He turns, focusing as much as he can on that sound. Others. Talking. Calls. He smiles. 

“Geralt?”

He turns back to Ciri. “Get Eskel. They’re home.” And then goes down to the gate.

Vesemir is first, stopping his horse in the middle of the yard and dismounting. Lambert follows, and then a small but well stocked travel cart drawn by a horse. 

And riding the cart are three people that Geralt had not been expecting. 

Chireadan jumps down first, before turning and offering a hand to Yennefer and helping her to step down. Then they turn together, each taking a hand to help the final member of the party down off the cart. 

Geralt stays still, eyes fixed on Jaskier as he steps towards the Witcher, stopping to look over his shoulder at Yennefer and Chireadan, who nod encouragingly. 

_ ‘Look him in the eye.’ _ Jaskier hears Yennefer’s voice in his head.  _ ‘Remember, you deserve to be here.’ _

Jaskier looks Geralt in the eye, swallowing before forcing a small smile onto his face. “Geralt.”

“Jaskier.” The Witcher’s gaze is fixed on Jaskier’s chin. “They found you.”

“Yennefer and Chireadan did, in Dol Angra.”

Geralt nods, makes as if to say something else, but then stops himself and shakes his head.

“Welcome home.” He says, before walking past the bard to greet Yennefer.

Vesemir and Lambert try to get Jaskier’s attention, but the bard just closes his eyes. 

Geralt can barely LOOK at him.

Lambert starts towards Geralt, only to be grabbed by Vesemir, who whispers into the witcher’s ear before letting go. Lambert shakes his head and turns his back on Geralt, his face breaking into a smile when he sees who is standing on the steps.

“Well, there’s my favourite princess.” He says. “And Ciri’s here too.”

“Ha ha.” Eskel shakes his head before grasping Lambert’s arm and patting his shoulder with the other hand. “Good to see you.”

Lambert returns the gesture, then walks past him and kneels in front of Ciri, reaching into his pocket. 

“Picked you something up in Oxenfurt.” He holds up a small locket on a chain, and carefully opens it. “See the stone inside?”

Ciri nods, reaching out to touch the blue stone, which is glowing. 

“The glow means it’s listening. It listens and you tell it all your secrets. Tell it about all the things that’s scaring or worrying you and then…” He snaps the locket shut. “You lock them away.”

Ciri smiles, standing still while Lambert puts the locket around her neck. “Thank you.”

“Welcome home, Jas.” Eskel says to Jaskier, pulling him into a hug which he finds himself holding when the bard’s face presses into his shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

“Just tired.” Jaskier nods. “Geralt isn’t pleased to see me.”

Eskel nods, stepping out of the embrace, but keeping his hands on Jaskier’s arms. “Well  _ I _ am pleased to see you. When we found out what happened on that mountain, we were worried about you. We looked everywhere. When did you get so good at hiding from Witchers?”

“I was a cat.”

“A...what?”

“Long story.” Jaskier looks down. “I went to Sodden...I…I found Triss’s memorial.”

Eskel steps back, and behind him Ciri gasps.

“You don’t know.”

“Don’t know what, young Ciri?” Vesemir asks as he approaches the group.

By the cart, Yennefer keeps her posture confident as she looks at Geralt, her arm around Chireadan’s waist as he, in turn, places an arm around her shoulders.

Geralt acknowledges them with a nod. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Geralt.” Chireadan says. 

Yennefer nods. “How have you been?”

“Busy.” Geralt smirks. “Although clearly not as busy as you two.” 

Chireadan tightens his hold of Yennefer, who looks up at him with a smile. 

Geralt looks at the elf. “I hope you know what you’ve let yourself in for.”

“I have some idea.” Chireadan says as he looks at the smiling Yennefer.

“Jaskier said you found him in Dol Angra.” Geralt looks over his shoulder at the bard. “How is he?”

“Why don’t you ask HIM?” Yennefer snaps.

“Yen.” Chireadan whispers, before turning to Geralt. “He has...he is not well. The death of his friend Triss hit him hard…”

Geralt’s eyes widen. 

“Geralt?” Yennefer gasps. “You didn’t know?”

“YOU don’t know.” Geralt looks back towards the steps, and Chireadan and Yennefer follow his gaze.

Yennefer’s hand goes to her mouth, and she runs towards the steps.

Triss slowly descends the stairs, looking at each new stranger...no not strangers. She...she KNOWS these people. They are familiar, like a word she knows but can’t recall, right on the tip of her tongue. 

“Vesemir.” She smiles. “You’re Vesemir?”

“Triss.” Vesemir whispers, then laughs as the sorceress runs to him, not knowing why she feels so safe in his arms but feeling it anyway as the old witcher embraces her tightly, still laughing. 

“How?”

“We might want to sit down for that story.” Eskel says. 

Vesemir pulls out of the embrace, his hands cupping Triss’s face. “You’re alive.” His thumbs stroke tears from her cheeks. “Triss, we thought…”

“You fucking WITCH.”

Everyone turns to look at Lambert. 

“Fuck Merigold, we thought you were DEAD.” He points at Jaskier. “Jas thought you were dead. Do you KNOW what that DID to him? What it did to VESEMIR? And you were...where the FUCK were you all this time?”

“Lambert.” Eskel steps towards him. “Triss lost her memory.” He looks at Triss. “She didn’t even know who SHE was, much less us.”

“Oh, Little Daughter.” Vesemir says, his hand going into her hair. 

“It’s starting to come back but...” Triss says. 

“Get OFF me.” Lambert bares his teeth to Eskel, steps back, and then marches up into the Keep. The entire fort seems to vibrate as he slams the gate behind him. 

“Uh, he…” Eskel looks at Triss. “I...”

“I’ll stay here with Triss.” Vesemir says.

Eskel nods, and then runs up into the Keep. “LAMBERT.”

Ciri follows him.

Triss looks from the inside gate to Vesemir, and then looks over his shoulder. 

Smiling, the Old Witcher turns to stand beside her, placing a supportive hand on her back as she steps towards...a friend? Brother? Brother…

“Jaskier? I remember you.” 

The bard is frozen, the wind in his hair the only movement. Then he blinks once, twice, sobs once, bites his bottom lip.

“It’s alright Ju...Jaskier.” Vesemir looks at Triss, and then back at the bard, holding a hand towards him. “I know it is hard to believe what you are seeing, but it IS alright. Trust me. This is real.”

Jaskier takes Vesemir’s hand, and lets the Witcher pull him closer. 

“I was going to write you a song.” He says to Triss. “It was going to be for a jig, because you love to dance and I wanted it to be happy. Because you...oh Triss you’re alive.”

And Jaskier pulls Triss into an embrace, his face pressed against her black hair as he hugs her while Vesemir, in turn, wraps his arms around them both, a father embracing his youngest and middle child as they cry together.

Yennefer looks down, and smiles as Chireadan’s hand rests on her shoulder.

“Are you alright, Yen?”

“I’m fine.” She says, patting his hand, before turning to look at Geralt. She spares the Witcher a cold glare, then walks past him to join the group, her hands resting against Jaskier’s trembling back and Triss’s shoulder. 

“We actually rehearsed meeting you again.” 

Geralt turns to look at Chireadan. 

“We rehearsed you being angry. You being happy. You being a...how did Yennefer put it?”

“I get the idea.”

Chireadan crosses his arms. “I am afraid that we neglected to rehearse the ‘Someone comes back from the dead’ outcome, so you will need to bear with us.”

Geralt nods. “You said Jaskier is not well?”

“The illness in his mind has made the last few months difficult for him.”

The witcher sighs, turning to look at the bard. “It’s been so long since his last episode. Years. I thought he may have recovered.”

Chireadan shakes his head. “I will not discuss it further with you. Not without his consent.”

Geralt’s gaze flies back to the elf. “He never hides it from me.”

“Maybe not before.” Chireadan’s voice is stern. “But then I believe you said something along the lines of ‘If life could give me one blessing it would be to take you off my hands.’ and, well, telling someone that they would be better off dead tends to leave a bitter taste in the mouth. Especially when they are also fighting those beliefs in their own mind.”

Geralt huffs. 

“I will be honest with you, Geralt. I want to punch you right now, for various reasons. But you are a Witcher and I quite like being alive, so I will just say this.” He steps towards Geralt, lowering his voice. “I have been around for a long time, and was not always a healer. My past also has words like Scoia'tael in it.”

Geralt nods. 

“If you hurt Jaskier again then, well, anger makes people do stupid things. And I KNOW that I can get VERY angry. And when angry, I have been known to do VERY stupid things with arrows.”

Geralt nods, slowly. “Anything else?”

“My beloved can summon fire with her thoughts.”

“I remember.”

“Then we have an understanding.” Chireadan offers his hand. “It is good to see you again, Witcher.”

Geralt mutely accepts the handshake.

“Excuse me.” Chireadan walks past Geralt to join the group, leaving the witcher alone in the yard.

Geralt turns slowly, his eyes focusing on Jaskier. 

_ Anger makes people do stupid things _ .

Geralt knows that better than anyone.


	2. A Long Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Jaskier gets pretty deep into anxiety and self criticism, so TW just in case <3

Jaskier can’t sleep. 

It’s his first night alone since the Pellar’s curse, what feels like a lifetime ago. A lifetime of being held at night, or if not being held then at least being able to hear the soft breathing or conversations of companions only a short distance away in the tent.

And now, so suddenly, Jaskier is alone. And the silence in the room is as painful as any loud noise. 

He turns onto his other side in the bed, kicks the suddenly suffocating blankets down to his feet, turns back onto his other side, and finally gives up and sits up and...maybe if he reads it will calm his mind. But which book? He has a few to pick from in his room, varying from monster information to historical accounts and some fiction and even his own work, collected together in a tattered notebook. 

He doesn’t know what he wants to read, his interest in each book is lost as soon as he opens it, so he doesn’t. 

He sees the lute case leant against the wall. Maybe he should finally tune it. But if he starts now it will take time and he needs to concentrate. His mind won’t settle.

He wraps his arms around himself, scooting back to sit on the floor with his back against the side of the bed, his hands running up and down his arms in a strange self hug. Far from calming him, the movements become agitated. He lowers his hands to his lap.

Maybe he should read a book. John of Brugge could even send Vesemir to sleep. 

But he’s hungry. He didn’t bring anything up to the room with him. Maybe he should find some food.

His feet are bare as he steps out of the room, letting the door click shut behind him. He makes his way down the stairs. But he doesn’t go to the kitchen. 

He isn’t really thinking about his direction as he steps into the corridor leading to Triss’s bedroom. Some part of his mind registers that the door is open, the room lit, and he is about to knock when he hears Lambert’s voice.

“I just...I saw you and I got so angry so quickly that..." Lambert sounds strange. There’s a vulnerability in his voice that is rarely there. "Thinking you were dead. It hurt. It hurt this family, and seeing that that pain was all for nothing. That you had been alive the whole time. I let the anger get the better of me. But that’s a reason not an excuse. And I...look, Merigold...Triss, I’m just trying to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took it out on you. It wasn’t your fault...and, and I really am glad that you’re alive.”

“And how much of what you just said was composed by Eskel?”

“Ciri, actually.” Lambert chuckles. “She’s pretty smart for a rugrat.”

“She is.” Triss, who is sitting on the bed, reaches out a hand, smiling as Lambert accepts it, letting her hold his hand between both of her own as he moves to sit beside her on the bed. 

“Apology accepted. And I hope that we can be friends again.”

“It wasn’t really a friendship. More of a cease fire.”

Triss chuckles. “What’s your favourite memory of us?”

“Lettenhove.” Lambert says straight away. 

“Lettenhove?”

“We snuck out there one summer. You, me and Eskel.”

“No Geralt?”

“No, he was in Beauclair with the Old Man and Jaskier. It um...well it’s another story involving an endrega, but Jas had had a tough winter so Vesemir wanted to spoil him a bit.”

Triss nods. “Well, nothing spoils someone quite like a summer holiday in the wine country.”

Jaskier smiles as he remembers those precious weeks with Vesemir. Geralt had found a series of contracts to occupy himself with, so for much of the time it was just the bard and the elderly witcher, exploring vineyards and museums, or just resting in the warm sun, talking.

Like a father and his son.

Jaskier closes his eyes. He’d do anything to go back to that carefree holiday right now.

Back in the room, Lambert stands. “So, left to our own devices we all immediately broke our promise to Vesemir not to go to Lettenhove, and we went to Lettenhove.” 

He paces the room as he tells the story with a flare that would make a Mummer jealous. 

“You cast some spells on this asshole Viscount’s house. Silly things like banging doors, furniture moving across the room...screams in the attic. And then a couple of Witchers just happen to be walking by while this is going on…” Lambert points at himself. “...and me and Eskel tell the asshole that it’s a Hym.”

“A Hym?”

“You did a GREAT job with the Hym illusion. Even I was convinced.”

Triss chuckles. “Were the valiant Witchers able to defeat the illusionary Hym.”

“No.” Lambert says. “Oh we tried of course. The ‘fight’ destroyed two rooms and three windows. A tree caught fire in the garden because Ignii takes no prisoners, and Eskel sliced through an original Van Rough.” 

“An original?” Triss gasps in mock horror, before laughing.

“In the end we had to get the Viscount to break the curse. Which involved him standing in a field, naked, screaming ‘I smell of Buckwheat’ to the rising sun.”

Triss shakes her head. “Why were we...wait…”

Calming, Lambert puts a hand on her shoulder. “Merigold?”

“Jaskier.” She smiles. “We were doing it for Jaskier.”

He nods.

“We...we went to his bedroom, his bedroom when he lived there.” Triss looks down at her lap. “It was empty, neglected. Covered in dust. It was like Jaskier’s place in the house had been left to rot.”

Jaskier steps away from the door, standing with his back to the wall.

“That’s when Eskel sliced through the painting with his sword.”

“I’m sure Van Rough will forgive him.” Lambert mutters. 

Jaskier can’t help the loud hitch in his breathing.

“Jas?”

“Hi.” Jaskier says, awkwardly, as he looks around the door. “Sorry, I was just coming to see how you were, Triss.”

“I’m fine.” She says, standing. “Come in. Lambert and I were just discussing past escapades.”

“No...I won’t interrupt.”

“You’re not interrupting, Jas.” Lambert says, offering his hand. “Come on, I’ll get some drinks, we can make an evening of it.” 

“No, you two have fun, I’m going to go...go to bed.” 

“Are you alright, Jaskier?” Triss says. “It’s been a big day for you.” 

“I’m fine.” He forces a smile onto his face. 

“Hey, maybe we should go wake Vesemir…”

“No.” Jaskier shakes his head. “I’m alright, just...it’s been a long day. Like you said. Goodnight Triss. Lambert.”

“Yeah, sleep well.” The Witcher says, looking Jaskier up and down with a concerned glance. 

Jaskier turns his back on the room, fingers fidgeting with the bottom of his shirt as he walks. Triss and Lambert are getting to know eachother again, having fun. They won’t want Jaskier ruining it with his stupid, childish needs. 

“Geralt loves you.” Ciri’s voice, and Jaskier finds himself looking through another open door. 

Ciri is laid in her bed, tucked in, and Jennefer is sat next to her, holding the young girl's hand. 

“And I still love him as well.”

“But if you love each other, why don’t you want to be together?”

Yennefer sighs. “Sometimes loving someone means accepting that they are better without you by their side.”

Jaskier feels cold. 

“It would be lovely if it was always like in fairy tales, where they all live happily ever after. But, it’s not always the case, Ciri. Sometimes, the happiness ends, and they have to part.”

“That’s sad.”

“It is sad.” Yennefer nods. “But it isn’t sad forever. Geralt will find someone, one day. Like I have.” She smiles. “I have a family of choice now. One that I love very much.”

Ciri smiles. 

The cold feeling gets worse and worse, freezing his limbs in heavy ice as he makes his way down to the main hall. He’s hungry. He should eat something. Something warm, maybe some soup or broth.

He can hear Eskel talking. 

“So there’s four factions. Monsters, Nilfgaard, Northern Realms and Scoia’tael. Pick one.”

“Scoia’tael.” Chireadan says, accepting the deck from Eskel. 

“And I’ll play Monster.” Eskel nods. “Right. Probably best if we just slowly play through a game and I explain stuff as we go...hey Jaskier.” He smiles at the bard. “You know, Jaskier’s pretty good at gwent. Not as good as he is at dice poker, mind.”

“Yes I learned about his dice poker skills the hard way.” Chireadan chuckles, before putting the card deck on the table and looking at Jaskier. “Are you alright, my friend? You seem pale?”

“Just hungry. I was going to get something from…”

“Well why don’t you talk Chireadan through Gwent basics, and I’ll heat you something up.” Eskel stands, encouraging Jaskier into his chair. 

“I can get it myself, it’s…”

“Hey. It’s alright, let me do this.” Eskel smiles. “You look beat.”

“I can take care of myself.” Jaskier snaps, immediately regretting the outburst but knowing that he can’t take it back now. 

“Jaskier.” Chireadan says, his tone calm. “Eskel was not implying that you can't.”

“I’m sorry.” Jaskier shakes his head. “I’m just tired. I...I didn’t mean to interrupt your...I’m just going to go to…”

“Jas, why don’t you…”

“I’m fine, Eskel. Chireadan. Enjoy your game. I’ll go get some sleep.”

“Do you want me to sit with you for a while?” Chireadan asks.

“No. I’m alright.” 

“You said you were hungry.” Eskel asks.

“I’m alright.”

_I’m alright. I’m alright. I’m alright._

He doesn’t go to the kitchen, instead he goes back into the tower, and through the side door into the yard. Maybe he just needs some fresh air.

Maybe Yennefer and Chireadan will let him set the tent up outside. Maybe...maybe they’ll stay in it with him tonight. Maybe everyone will.

He shakes his head. Stupid. Childish.

The pendulum swings slightly in the evening breeze, and in the distance Jaskier can hear wolves howling.

“Nice evening.” Jaskier tenses as Geralt comes to stand beside him. “Not too cold, clear sky. You can see all the stars.”

Jaskier nods, quickly glancing up at the night sky before looking down. 

“Jaskier, your feet are bare.”

“I’m fine.” Jaskier says, quietly. 

“Come inside. I actually need to tell you something.”

“Can it wait until tomorrow?” Jaskier says, quickly. “I’m really tired.”

“It won’t take long.”

“I CAN’T tonight, Geralt.” Jaskier shakes his head. “Please.” 

_If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands._

_Sometimes loving someone means accepting that they are better without you._

“I’m just going to bed.”

“Jaskier?” 

“I said NO, Geralt. I can’t tonight. Tomorrow. We can do this tomorrow.”

“At least let me go up with you, you look…”

“I look what? Like I’m shoveling shit into your life again.”

Geralt is silent. 

“Well don’t worry. I’m going now. And you can carry on telling me how I’ve ruined everything tomorrow.”

His piece said, Jaskier goes back into the tower, and doesn’t stop his storming movement until he has collapsed on his side on his bed, his eyes fixed on the wall and no closer to sleep than he was before his wander around the fortress. 

And now, he has heat alongside the cold, red hot anger making his chest hurt and his stomach clench as he trembles, teetering on the edge of a breakdown. He knows all the signs. The weight on his limbs, the way his temper flares up, the anxiety, the restlessness. 

He’s pathetic. 

He looks at the untuned lute.

He isn’t even a bard anymore.

He hears a gentle knocking on the door and closes his eyes. Maybe if he pretends to be asleep for long enough it will stop being pretend.

The door opens, and Jaskier hears gentle footsteps making their way to the bed as they have so many times before, so many nights like this. 

“Julian?” Vesemir’s voice is quiet, just above a whisper, and a hand rests on the side of the bard’s face. “That’s alright my boy. You keep your eyes closed if you need to, you must be exhausted.”

He feels the mattress dip as Vesemir sits on the bed. 

“Everyone is worried about you.” Vesemir says, a smile in his voice. “They said you looked troubled.”

They woke Vesemir, and now Jaskier is going to be a burden for him. 

_If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands._

The witcher cups the side of his face, thumb brushing back and forth over Jaskier’s cheek.

“It’s been a long day.” Vesemir says, quietly. “I’m sorry, I should have thought to check on you after you retired for the night. I was occupied with Triss. And I had to make sure that Ciri’s needs were being seen to as well. She’s mature for her age, but she is still so young.” Vesemir sighs. “I’m here now. I’m here now, son.”

Did Vesemir just say…

Jaskier cracks his eyes open, broken gaze staring up at the Witcher, who smiles back at him. 

“There you are. Sit up for a second, my boy.” Vesemir carefully lifts Jaskier, maneuvering him with gentle hands while he moves up the bed, grabbing one of the pillows and placing it in his lap before encouraging Jaskier to lay back down again, the witcher’s hands returning to his hair as the bard curls up on his side, the blanket being pulled over him. 

“Much better.” Vesemir whispers. “Just rest, Julian. I’m here now. It’s safe. You’re safe. Whatever it is troubling you, I promise that it will seem so much smaller in the morning.”

Those words take Jaskier back to Beauclair, awoken from a nightmare to find Vesemir by his bed. They sit like this afterwards for maybe hours.

_Whatever it is troubling you, I promise that_ _it will seem so much smaller in the morning._

Jaskier doesn’t feel like he is inside his body anymore. He is on the outside, watching Vesemir stroke his hair. He feels his eyes blink shut and then open again. He hears Vesemir alternate between reassurances and humming on the spot compositions. 

The hand strokes through his hair, over and over. 

He hears the door open again.

“Vesemir?”

“Yennefer.” Vesemir says, brightly. “How’s Ciri?”

“Fast asleep.” The sorceress kneels beside the bed, and Jaskier can smell soup.

He opens his eyes, focusing on the mug in Yennefer's hands.

"Chireadan and Eskel met me in the corridor." She smiles, holding up the soup mug. "This is for you, Bard." 

"Let's sit you up." Vesemir says, gently turning Jaskier pulling him into a sitting position against the Witcher's chest while Yennefer passes the mug to the bard. 

Yennefer's hand rests against his shoulder as he drinks the soup, eyes fixed on the bedspread. 

“Jaskier?”

“Shh.” Vesemir hushes her. “Just let him...be....for a while, Yennefer. He just needs to process everything that has happened today.”

_We snuck out there one summer. You, me and Eskel._

_I have a family of choice now. One that I love very much._

_I’ll heat you something up._

_Do you want me to sit with you for a while?_

_I’m here now, son_

They care.

“Why?” Jaskier whispers as Yennefer takes the empty mug away. He closes his eyes. “Why do you all put up with me? Want me?”

Neither answer straight away, but then he feels Yennefer’s lips against his forehead, held there for a few seconds. 

“We’re not ‘putting up’ with you, my boy.” Vesemir says as he encourages Jaskier to lay back down on his side. “You’re not a burden.” 

“I wish I knew what would get through to you when you are feeling like this.” Yennefer says. “What would help you to realise how precious you are.” 

She reaches for the chain around Jaskier’s neck, carefully working the medallion out from under his shirt and holding it up where he can see it. 

“Just...listen to us. Me and Vesemir. Don’t listen to that monster inside your head. Listen to us. Please.”

Jaskier reaches out, uttering a choked sob when Yennefer grabs his hand, thumb stroking over his knuckles as they hold the medallion between them. 

“I should be happy. Triss is alive. I...”

“Happiness is a powerful emotion.” Vesemir’s hand stills for a moment. “Of course the shock has overwhelmed you. You were ALREADY fighting through each day.” 

Jaskier turns his face into the pillow.

“You know that these moments always pass.”

“It’s never been as long as this. What if this is the one that doesn’t stop?”

“Hush.” Vesemir places a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. 

“These moments ALWAYS pass.” Yennefer says.

Jaskier shakes his head. 

“Rest now.” Vesemir whispers, and a tingling sensation passes over Jaskier as the axii settles across his mind, a glowing warmth stopping his thoughts. 

Jaskier lets out a long breath, and sleep finally takes him.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, my boy. We all will.”


	3. Blisters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for suicide thoughts / plans
> 
> Sorry this update took so long. I got myself a tinsy bit anxious about it <3
> 
> Thank for all the lovely comments / kudos <3 <3

He knows about the island with the Circle of Elements. 

Full of Foglets and trolls and even a cyclops. 

A mere human doesn’t stand a chance. And there won’t even be a body left behind. He will simply find his fate, and disappear.

* * *

Laid on his side, Jaskier is woken by a presence behind him. A single point of touch starting at the nape of his neck and gently tracing down over his sleeping shirt, running the length of his spine and then softly drifting back up again. Then shapes, a circle, a tree, a heart. Another heart. Another tree. Or is it a cloud?

“There you are?” Vesemir’s voice, chuckling as he steps into the room. “Eskel is looking for you, Young Lady. You’re supposed to be training together.”

“Hmmm.” Came the not committal hum behind him. 

“Let him sleep, Ciri. He’s unwell.”

Vesemir sounds tired. And of course he does. He’s been looking after Jaskier all night.

“I AM letting him sleep.” Ciri argues. 

Jaskier pretends to still be asleep. It’s not hard when he feels like this. It’s almost the truth, even if he is also awake, in a way.

“My grandmother would do this for me, whenever I was sick. It always made me feel better.”

A circle. A line coming from the circle. Another line, no an arm. Another arm. Legs.

“It always helped me to sleep. Grandmother said that’s all you need when you’re ill. Sleep and love.”

A heart.

“Your grandmother was very wise.”

“She was. Her and Grandfather. Cintra was in a golden age.” Jaskier feels Ciri sit up. “I HATE Nilfgaard.”

“And so you should.” Vesemir says. “But it is YOUR hatred, and YOUR anger, Ciri. Learn to control those emotions…”

“...or they will control me.” Ciri lays back down.

A circle. A square. A line down his spine.

“What’s this I hear about you and Geralt arguing while I was away?” 

“He won’t let me on the pendulums, even though they’re no different to the Skellige swings, and I beat my Cousin Hjalmar at those all the time.”

“Calm, Ciri.” There is a smile in Vesemir’s voice now. “Geralt is your guardian. He wants only to protect you from harm. I appreciate that it is frustrating, but would you rather he had no care for your safety?”

“No.” Ciri says after a pause. 

“Let him settle. For Witchers, humans are delicate things. You need to be...?”

“Patient.” Ciri says with a bored tone. 

“Good girl.” Vesemir says. “Make good progress with your lessons today, and I will discuss the pendulums with Geralt.”

“Thank you, Uncle Vesemir.”

Ciri makes Vesemir happy. Makes him happy in a way Jaskier never could. 

Ciri makes Vesemir proud.

Jaskier just makes him tired.

Vesemir sounds so tired. 

* * *

He knows about the island with the Circle of Elements. 

Full of Foglets and trolls and even a cyclops. 

A mere human doesn’t stand a chance. And there won’t even be a body left behind. He will simply find his fate, and disappear.

And Vesemir won’t be tired anymore.

* * *

Geralt sits in the corner of the armoury, whetstone slowly moving along the steel blade again and again. A small collection of similar blades sits beside him, ready to be worked on.

He likes this activity. He’s done it so many times that it is muscle memory, not requiring more than minimal concentration from Geralt as he works. Almost like a form of meditation. 

It lets him think about other things. 

“Love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.”

He huffs out a laugh as he looks up, seeing Jaskier standing against the doorway, his arms folded.

“Yennefer said you were in here?”

Geralt nods, and looks back down at the blade, running the whetstone along it. 

Coming into the room proper, Jaskier sits down on a crate, hands folded in his lap. “I owe you an apology…”

“You don’t.”

“What I said last night.” Jaskier says over the top of him. “I was...I don’t know…”

“Vesemir said you had a rough night.” Geralt looks up.

Jaskier nods. “I’m okay today.”

It’s a lie, and he wonders if Geralt knows it. 

Silence, and the whetstone is put to one side as Geralt reseaths the blade, and reaches for another.

“You...um...you wanted to speak to me?”

Geralt nods, putting both whetstone and sword down on the ground before standing.

“Why did you leave, on the mountain?”

Jaskier blinks. “You told me that you wanted me gone.”

“I’ve said that before, and worse. Why was that time the time that made you believe me?”

He shrugs, thinking about his reply. 

“I guess I realised the water was boiling.”

“Water?”

“It’s a lecture I attended in Oxenfurt.” Jaskier is quiet for a moment, then he looks at Geralt. “What do you do if you put your foot into a bath of boiling water?”

“What?”

“What do you do, Geralt?”

The Witcher huffs. “You take it out again.”

“Why?”

“Because otherwise it will burn.” 

“Good. Now, what happens if you put your foot into a bath of water that is heated by flame to just the right temperature. Perfect.” 

“You get in the bath.”

“And you lay back, close your eyes. Enjoy it.”

“What’s your point, Jaskier?”

“The bath is still over the flame.” 

Geralt nods.

“The bath is getting hotter and hotter, but it’s so slow, so gradual, that you don’t notice it. You don’t realise until you look down and see your skin blistering.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow. 

“It’s a metaphor, Geralt. I don’t think anyone has actually tried it.” Jaskier laughs under his breath, but doesn’t smile. “It means…”

“The mountain was where you finally saw the blisters.” Geralt looks away, nodding as he sits back down, and crosses his arms. 

“I’m sorry.”

Jaskier does smile that time, but not out of humour. “For the mountain, or for the FUCKING years before it.”

Geralt looks back at him. 

“YEARS, Geralt. Years of you putting me down, pushing me away. My singing. My clothes. Nothing was off limits, was it? You said we weren’t friends. Told me that I was a...that you wanted me taken off your hands. As good as telling me to die, on that mountain. Not just there, you said it more than once. And ALL you can say now is SORRY?”

Geralt says nothing as Jaskier stands, taking a step towards the Witcher. 

“Is this the part where I forgive you? Where we just go back to how it was before?”

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jaskier sits back down, turning away from Geralt as he draws his feet up onto the crate, knees pulled against his chest. 

The change in his mood so sudden that it leaves him dizzy. “I’m sorry too.”

“For what?” Geralt’s voice is quiet.

“You never gave up on me but I gave up on you.”

Geralt shakes his head. 

“I walked away. You NEVER walked away from me, no matter how...”

“You never set out to hurt me.” Geralt says, stopping his rant. “What you did on the mountain, walking away, was the right thing to do then. You protected yourself. I was in the one in the wrong. Do you understand?”

“What happened?”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about that.”

“And?”

Geralt picks up the sword again, studying the blade. “Do you remember the endrega attack? Outside Novigrad.”

“You tend not to forget nearly dying, Geralt.” Jaskier says, still angry, but slightly calmer. “Well, maybe you do if you’re a Witcher. Happens a lot in your trade.”

Geralt nods. “I remember it. I remember finding you laying on the grass. Unconscious. Poisoned.”

Jaskier swallows. 

“Because I had failed to protect you. I failed you.” Geralt throws the sword to the ground. “You were DYING, Jaskier. And I...I realised for the first time…”

“How delicate humans are.” Jaskier looks up.

Geralt nods. “I hated myself for letting you get hurt. It took you nearly a year to recover, a year of your LIFE that I stole from you…”

“You gave me all those years in the first place.”

Geralt looks away.

“The endraga attacked me, Geralt. And it was able to do that because I chose to be there, to protect you. Besides, pretty sure it was actually Triss’s medicine that I was recovering from, so maybe we should blame her.”

“No.”

“Well then.” Jaskier smiles. “And it wasn’t a bad year. We went to Toussaint. That was nice.”

Geralt nods. “And then Cintra.” 

Jaskier slowly nods. “And then Cintra.” 

“The child surprise. Another human bound to me by fate, doomed to a witcher’s life. And would I fail to protect them too? Would I watch them die slowly to endrega venom? Or worse?”

Geralt turns, looking at the far wall. “I hated myself. I was angry at myself. But...I’m a Witcher, Jaskier. I deal with my problems by fighting them. Only I couldn’t see the target...so, so I made one.”

“Me.”

“I became angry at you. I WANTED to hurt you. I wanted you to be as broken as I was.” 

“Misery loves company.” Jaskier whispers. 

“I let anger turn me into Jaskier’s monster.” Geralt sighs. “And you’re right. I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But please, let me earn it, Jaskier. Please. Let me...let me be the friend I used to be.”

Geralt sounds so angry with himself.

The bard slowly nods, and places his hand on top of Geralt’s. 

“Friend.” He whispers. 

* * *

He knows about the island with the Circle of Elements. 

Full of Foglets and trolls and even a cyclops. 

A mere human doesn’t stand a chance. And there won’t even be a body left behind. He will simply find his fate, and disappear.

And Geralt won’t be angry anymore. 

* * *

Jaskier is making his way to the kitchen when he overhears the conversation.

“You seem...quiet.” Chireadan is saying.

“It’s stupid.”

“Yen?”

“It’s...it’s Ciri.”

“Ciri? She seemed fine when we saw her.”

“Chireadan, I told you about Eleanor, the baby girl that I...lost.” 

A pause. 

“Seeing Ciri, I just feel...it’s brought all those feelings back.” Yennefer sighs. “Like I said, stupid.”

“It is NOT stupid.” Chireadan smiles. “I know it is hard, but it won’t be forever. We will go back to Dol Angra…”

“No.” Yennefer shakes her head. “Jaskier needs us here.”

“I didn’t mean we leave him behind.

“I won’t take him away from Kaer Morhen, not now.” Yennefer says. “There is time. The Pellar had a few years left in her.”

Jaskier makes Yennefer quiet.

Yennefer sounds so quiet. 

* * *

The plan is a bit stronger in the back of Jaskier’s mind. 

Yennefer and Chireadan will be free to go to Dol Angra. To have a child. And in the meantime, they can help to look after Ciri. To make her strong. 

And Ciri will be there to make them all proud and happy. 

Vesemir won’t be tired. 

Geralt will be the way he used to be, before anger changed him. 

Because Jaskier won’t be there to weigh them down.

* * *

A mere human doesn’t stand a chance. And there won’t even be a body left behind. He will simply find his fate, and disappear.

He will simply find his fate, and disappear.

Disappear.

Jaskier looks at the gate to the Keep, and then runs back.

* * *

“Alright, already.” Lambert shouts as he climbs out of the bed, approaching the door and the frantic knocking behind it. 

He opens it quickly, the snarky remark he has planned quickly gone when he sees who is knocking.

“Jaskier?” Lambert says. 

The younger man is breathing like someone who has just finished a run, his eyes wide and frantic, one hand held up as if he hasn’t realised that the door isn’t there for him to knock anymore. 

“Promise.” Jaskier says with a broken voice. “I promised I’d find you if…”

“Hey.” Lambert’s voice softens, as if he is speaking to a skittish animal. He places a gentle hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright. I’m here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ve got you.” Lambert pulls Jaskier into the room.

“Blisters.”

Lambert grabs Jaskier’s hands, turning them over, before looking back at him. “Where?”

Jaskier stares.

“Hey, Julian?” Lambert clicks his fingers three times in front of Jaskier’s eyes. “Where are there blisters?”

“Everywhere.” He points at his head. “Can’t get out.”

Relaxing slightly, Lambert sighs. “Come on.”

Going into the room, he grabs a blanket from the bed, wrapping it around the bard. Jaskier leans against the witcher’s chest, letting Lambert’s arms wrap around him over the blanket as he slowly leads him out of the room.

He doesn’t really acknowledge their journey through the keep, the sound of knocking, a conversation, and then another set of arms, Eskel standing on his other side.

“Should we get the old man?”

“No.” Lambert shakes his head. “We can handle it, he just...he just needs to not be alone.”

More knocking, and gentle hands take his own, a warm smile as he is led into a bedchamber. A grand room, full of draperies, tapestries and jewels. The balcony overlooking the forest. 

Only the best room for Kaer Morhen’s mage in residence, Vesemir had said once. 

“Here.” Triss moves some pillows to the floor, and they all sit down, Jaskier in the middle of a circle of arms, hands, and gentle voices. 

Jaskier shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Shhh. Don’t apologise.” Lambert smiles, resting a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. 

“Do you want to talk?” Eskel says.

Jaskier shakes his head. 

The scarred Witcher smiles. “Well, how about we talk and you listen?” 

“Merigold?” Lambert smiles. “Any memories come back today?”

“I think I remember meeting Geralt, in Temeria.”

He knows about the island with the Circle of Elements. 

Full of Foglets and trolls and even a cyclops. 

A mere human doesn’t…

“Hey.” Lambert taps Jaskier’s cheek. “Don’t you go wandering off in there. Merigold’s getting to the good part.”

“The part where Remus died?” Eskel scolds. 

“Yeah.” Lambert shrugs. “The guy was an ass.”

Jaskier becomes aware only of a single point of touch starting at the nape of his neck and gently tracing down over his shirt, running the length of his spine and then returning to the top. And down. And down. 

And his mind drifts to a quieter time. A warm fire. He’s smaller, small enough to sit on the Pellar’s lap, her hand stroking down his back again and again.

He wonders if Lambert knows what he is doing, sparking the memories of his time under the curse. But he doesn’t want to ask. He doesn’t want to break THIS spell. 

So he closes his eyes and, for the first time in a long time, enjoys a quiet mind as he half listens to Triss remembering her past. 

* * *

He knows about the island with the Circle of Elements.

Maybe the Witcher’s will take him to see it one day.

* * *

Geralt opens the door slowly, frowning when he finds the bedroom empty. 

“Jaskier?” He looks on the balcony, and then goes back into the stairwell, senses reaching out into the keep, a human heartbeat, slow. He’s asleep, wherever he is. 

Triss’s room.

Geralt knocks gently, and the door moves open, not having been properly latched. Pushing it the rest of the way, he peers into the room...and smiles. 

Fast asleep, the four friends are in what can only be described as a dogpile, curled up around each other and an assortment of pillows and blankets pulled from the bed. Jaskier is in the middle, pillowed as much by Lambert’s chest as he is anything else, while the Witcher holds him in place. The bard’s position is further held by Eskel being pressed up against his back, his arm over both younger men, while Triss lays on Lambert’s other side, her hand on Jaskier’s back.

Still smiling, Geralt quietly closes the door.


	4. Lambert's Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments, bookmarks and kudos <3 <3

No Witcher lives long that doesn't know how to plan their battles. 

Correct weapon. Correct potions. Correct arena, if they have any say on the battle environment. 

Everything is plotted. Meticulous. 

And while a Witcher is a lone hunter, a lone hunter can use a helping hand sometimes. Even Lambert accepts this.

* * *

Lambert's plan starts with Ciri as he gently wakes her that morning, a finger to his lips. 

“Got a job for you, kid.” He says, quietly. “I hear you’ve got a game you like to play with our favourite bard.”

* * *

Laid on his side in his room (when did he get back to his room?), Jaskier is woken by a presence behind him. A single point of touch starting at the nape of his neck and gently tracing down over his shirt, running the length of his spine and then softly drifting back up again. Then shapes, a cloud, a cat’s head, a heart. A tree.

Another heart.

“He’s smiling.” Lambert’s voice, getting louder as he approaches the bed. “You’re doing a good job, Ciri.”

Jaskier feels someone take hold of his hand with familiar calloused fingers, the thumb rubbing backwards and forwards across the skin. 

Jaskier remains silent, eyes closed as he let’s Lambert hold his hand. Let’s Ciri play her game. 

Ciri’s hurting too, after Cintra. Maybe the game helps her to feel better, just laying there drawing lazy shapes, letting her imagination take over for a while.

A horse? Or a dog? If he had the energy, he would ask. 

There’s a gentle knock on the door, and Ciri sits up.

“Ciri, Lambert.” Yennefer’s voice.

Jaskier can smell food.

“We brought breakfast.” Chireadan says. “How is he?”

“Still asleep.” Lambert says.

Yennefer nods. “Will you be joining us for breakfast, Ciri?”

“I should go.” Ciri says quickly. “Good morning”

“What’s wrong?” Yennefer says. 

“Nothing. I hope you have a nice meal. It smells good.”

Chireadan’s voice. “Just some simple leftovers from our supplies.”

“I moved Jaskier’s table out onto the balcony.” Lambert says. “It’s a warm morning, figured we could eat out there. Why don’t you go set everything up. Ciri and me will wake Jas up and join you.”

There is silence for a moment, then Jaskier hears the balcony door open, and close. 

“What’s your problem with the elf, kid?”

Jaskier hears her sniff. 

“I don’t have a problem.” She says, defensively. 

“Then why are you scared of him?”

“I’m...not.” Ciri’s voice shakes slightly. 

Silence.

“You’re not getting out of this conversation, Cirilla.” Jaskier hears cloth rubbing against cloth. Lambert crossing his arms maybe.

“Someone told me that...that my family wasn’t kind. To Chireadan’s people. And he’ll know that. He probably hates me because of it.”

“He probably hates your family a bit, yeah. But you know, kid, I was on the road with that guy for a while. I doubt he’s the sort to blame a child for shit that went down before she was fucking born.”

Ciri doesn’t answer, or maybe she nods or shakes her head. Jaskier’s eyes are still closed.

“You’re a wolf now.” Lambert says. “We’re not a perfect bunch, but one thing we can say is that Wolves judge people by their ACTIONS, not the shape of their ears or what their ancestors did. You get me? And if Chireadan wants to be in on this family, he’s gonna be that way to. Otherwise he’ll be answering to the Old Man first, and me next.”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now go help them get set up. Get to know them. Yen and Chireadan are good people. I’ll wake Jas.”

There is a smile in Ciri’s voice now. “Alright.”

Running footsteps, and then silence in the room before a hand rests on Jaskier’s arm. 

“You can stop pretending to be asleep now, you sneaky bastard.” 

Jaskier opens his eyes, expression hollow as he looks at Lambert.

“Come on.” The witcher says, smiling. “Food’s going to get cold.” 

* * *

The _simple leftovers_ are bowls of dried fruit, a generous handful of which Ciri quickly loads into her oatmeal. There’s also fresh toast and jam, tea and of course apple juice.

Yennefer prepares Jaskier’s bowl for him, sprinkling sugar over the oatmeal along with more of the fruit. She smiles as she places the bowl down. “Do you want tea or juice?”

Jaskier nods, and Chireadan chuckles. “You can not have both.”

“Why not.” Yennefer says. “WE make the rules at this table.”

Lambert smiles. “I’ll have tea if you're pouring, Yen?”

“Please?”

Lambert rolls his eyes, before saying “Please” in a simpering tone. 

Ciri looks from Lambert to Chireadan, and clears her throat. “You’ve been learning gwent?”

“Yes.” Chireadan nods. “It is an interesting game. Do you play, Little One?”

“No. But...I’d like to learn too.” 

“Eskel plays a mean hand.” Lambert says. “You could have worse teachers.”

“Perhaps you can join my next lesson.” Chireadan says, smiling at the princess, who smiles back, visibly relaxing.

Lambert winks at her. 

“Well I’m planning to do some exploring today.” Yennefer says. “Get to know our winter home.”

“Not much to see.” Lambert shrugs. “Ruins. Forest. More ruins. More forest. Few more ruins. More forest. 

Jaskier stirs the oatmeal in front of him, over and over and over. 

“There’s a place south of here where you can find some rare herbs.” Lambert is saying. “If you need to stock up on those.”

Even with the fruit and sugar, Jaskier’s appetite makes the oatmeal feel unwelcome in his mouth. He swallows, and stirs the oatmeal in the bowl some more.

The spoon stills as he feels Yennefer’s hand resting between his shoulder blades. “Let’s start there, then.” She is looking at the bard as she speaks. “A nice little outing for the five of us.”

“I have training.” Ciri says. 

“This IS training.” Lambert says. “Witcher’s nothing if they don’t know their herbs.”

“And healing potions.” The elf says. 

“You know, when he wasn’t much older than you, I taught Jaskier here how to make his first potions. We started with Swallow. Remember that, Jas?”

The bard nods, and swallows another spoonful of the oatmeal.

“Will you teach me?” Ciri says, her voice bright. 

“I’m sure between the three of us we can figure out a curriculum?” Lambert says, looking from Jaskier to Chireadan. 

“The _three_ of us?” Yennefer counters. “I happen to know a thing or two about herbs as well, Witcher.”

“Poisons do not count, Beloved.”

Lambert chokes on his tea while Yennefer hits Chireadan’s arm. 

Jaskier makes eye contact with Ciri, and when she smiles at him he forces himself to smile back.

She deserves to see smiles. 

Jaskier’s appetite makes the oatmeal feel unwelcome in his mouth, but Yennefer made it for him, so he eats it all, along with some toast.

And then, it is time to leave. 

* * *

Trusting that Eskel has told Vesemir about his plans, and why it means that the youngest student of their school won’t be attending her lessons today, Lambert leads them to the gate. There he helps Jaskier put on a scabbard for a silver sword they’ve found in the armoury, while Chireadan dons the quiver and bow he’s found in the same room. 

“It has been a while.” The elf says. “My aim may be a little rusty.”

“Well, let’s hope that anything that attacks us is fat.” Lambert says.

Ciri puts on her own sword, tightening the scabbard securely. 

They leave on foot, Yennefer carrying a pack of supplies for a picnic lunch. Ciri walks beside her. They discuss their mutual dislike of political maneuverings in court, the underhanded tactics of which Ciri is surprisingly knowledgeable of despite her age. 

Jaskier walks between Lambert and Chireadan, his head low, focused on his feet on the ground. He hasn’t been asked if he wants to go on this little expedition into the wilderness, it’s just been assumed and he doesn’t want to disappoint by saying no. 

He’s disappointed them enough recently. 

He cringes as he remembers the previous night, and Lambert apparently notices because a hand falls onto his shoulder, squeezing it tight. “You doing okay there, Jas?”

He nods. It’s a lie, but he nods. 

He just wants to curl up and hide from the world today. He doesn't want this...

“One foot in front of the other.” Lambert says, quietly. “It’s going to be okay, just one foot in front of the other. We’ll make sure you don’t get lost. You’ve said before that exercise helps you feel better sometimes.”

Sometimes. Not all the time.

Jaskier closes his eyes, and let’s the two men guide him. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to be here now. He was supposed to be gone, not burdening them with his illness yet again. 

He was supposed to disappear for them. And for himself.

Disappear.

But...but they chose to have breakfast with him. They chose to bring him on the walk. They could have left him alone. Jaskier didn’t say anything. They just brought him along.

He hasn’t said a word all day. 

He wipes at his eyes, tears born from frustration because nothing makes sense, and Chiredan’s hand rests next to Lambert’s against his back as the two men quietly talk over his head.

* * *

“Wow.” Ciri as good as breaths the word as she runs ahead, climbing up the rock face and standing in front of what could only be described as an outdoor greenhouse, the air kept hot by magic that makes Jaskier’s skin tingle as he is helped up the same rockface, and encouraged to sit down on the soft ground. 

“Reckon the mage in residence made it, the one before Triss.” Lambert reaches down to help Yennefer climb the rock face. “I found it a few decades back. Kinda been my little secret since then, so no blabbing to the others.”

“This is incredible.” Yennefer says, her voice echoing back at them. She smiles as she takes in the variety of herbs and flowers, some that are rarely seen outside of Zerrikania. Some that she has only ever seen as pictures in books.

Chireadan looks at Lambert. “May I?”

“Help yourself. It all grows back pretty quick.” Lambert shrugs. “I’ve never risked bringing Triss here. This many herbs and flowers in one place, she’d probably end up dying just by breathing in.”

Jaskier sits in front of the ribleaf. He should harvest some to make tea with later. It always helps him to feel calmer.

Maybe later. 

Beside him, Ciri is studying the flowers growing around the edge of the garden. After a moment she picks a blue one, and without missing a beat Yennefer takes it from her, braiding the flower into the young girl’s hair. 

Ciri smiles as she reaches up, tapping the flower gently and enjoying just being an innocent child again for a small moment.

“Very pretty.” Yennefer says, and the emotion in her gaze makes Jaskier’s stomach tighten. Yennefer looks so happy. They both do. Already they love each other so much. Mother and daughter. 

He smiles. Ciri deserves that.

Then, to Jaskier’s surprise, Yennefer picks another flower and kneels down to carefully loop it through the button hole of the bard's shirt, gently arranging it so that it is facing forward. That done, she smiles at him, her purple eyes bright.

“It suits you, Julian.”

“There’s flowers growing on the stone.” Ciri says, climbing up the rockface.

“Ciri, be careful.” Yen moves to stand underneath where Ciri is climbing.

The child quickly arrives the ledge a good eight feet up, reaching out and touching one of the flowers. 

“Are they buttercups?”

“No.” Chireadan says. “They look like jaskier.”

Lambert nods. 

“It’s your name.” She says to the bard, turning from him to the flower. “It’s beautiful. There’s so many of them up here. Look.”

And there they are, tiny little yellow flowers growing out of cracks in the stone, surrounded by cold rock, barren emptiness and harsh dust. And yet they grow. And yet they are beautiful. Strong. Fighting. 

“No, Little One.” Chireadan says as the girl goes to pick one. “Look at how the roots are mixed. They all need each other. Take one away, and the others will suffer,”

Because their roots criss cross along the rockface, all holding each other like a family holding hands.

Jaskier swallows. 

_A family holding hands._

_Take one away, and the others will suffer._

Ciri nods, leaving the flowers and jumping back down.

 _Take one away, and the others will suffer._

“Jas, see anything you…” Lambert stops, and kneels down in front of the bard just in time to grab him as he collapses against the witcher’s shoulder. 

“It’s alright, we’re here.”

Yennefer nods as she kneels down beside them, an arm across Jasker’s shaking shoulders. “We’re here.”

 _Take one away, and the others will suffer._

Jaskier shakes his head, sobbing brokenly.

Chireadan rests a hand against the back of Jaskier’s head for a moment, then reaches out for the crying Ciri’s hand.

“Come on, Little One. Let’s see what’s growing in the cave there.”

“No.” Ciri says, pulling her hand from Chireadan's. “Grandfather said you shouldn’t walk away from people when they’re hurting.”

And there’s another hand against Jaskier’s back, small, rubbing circles. And Chireadan’s hand takes hold of Jaskier’s own. And Lambert starts to rock the bard gently, whispering small comforts into his ear as his sobs become harsher still. 

_Take one away, and the others will suffer._

The younger man would be literally falling apart if it weren’t for those gentle touches, holding him like the roots of small flowers, supporting each other against the rocks.

_What did he nearly do?_

His roots. His family.

He wants to live for them. And for himself. 

Live

“I’d say your plan worked, Witcher.” Yennefer says.

“How is this working?” Lambert spits. “This was all supposed to cheer him up, not…”

“Not make him finally feel safe enough to let go?”

A pause, and then Jaskier feels Lambert nod against his crown. “Yeah, it worked.”

“Jas?” He gently pushes Jaskier back. “Eskel was going to talk you into a gwent and dice evening later, but we can cancel if you’re not feeling up to it.”

The bard blinks. “Can I just sit and watch?”

Jaskier flinches slightly as a weight rests against his back, Ciri hugging him from behind. 

“Of course.” Yennefer says, stroking his hair. “Just watch, and join in if you feel better.”

"Yeah." Lambert nods. 

Jaskier smiles, and this time it isn’t forced.


	5. Army

They fight it together. 

Lambert and Eskel take turns crashing in his room the nights that he sleeps there. He wakes to warm arms tight around him when he has a nightmare, or just holding him if he is struggling to sleep in the first place. 

"We've got you." They say. 

Other nights, Vesemir quietly invites the bard to sleep in his room, after an evening sitting on the sofa by the fire and discussing whatever thought enters Jaskier’s head. On those nights he talks until he is hoarse or crying or both. Sometimes he talks nonsense. Other times he gives words to his thoughts. All the time Vesemir sits and listens, speaking only to question unreasonable thinking, to calm anxious beliefs. 

The sessions...he can’t think of a better word...always leave Julian exhausted, limp as he is encouraged into the bed in Vesemir’s room.

The elder witcher settles into a comfy chair beside him and rests a hand on Julian’s shoulder while he slips into sleep.

"I'm proud of you." Vesemir says.

Other nights he is invited to Yennefer and Chireadan’s tent, set up on the edge of the yard. 

They share a meal while discussing their days, and often Ciri eats with them. 

Somehow, Ciri makes the family feel whole. A piece that no one had even realised was missing from the puzzle until they found her.

As the evening becomes night, Yennefer leads Ciri into a part of the tent that has appeared for her, tucking her into the comfortable bed and stroking her hair until she falls asleep. 

Afterwards it is Jaskier’s turn, led by Yennefer and Chireadan both to his own curtained off room within the tent, whispered conversations continuing that Jasier follows until he slips into sleep. 

They each hold one of his hands. 

"We love you." They say.

And sometimes he allows himself to cry as his family whisper to him and hold him and dry his tears.

Most of the time though, he smiles. 

One night, Ciri and Triss drag him to the yard and an evening spent laughing over stupid anecdotes and Ciri teaching them knucklebones. Then they lay in bedrolls while looking up at the stars.

They wake up in the early hours, covered in droplets from light rainfall, and laughing as they retreat into the main hall to light the fire and dry off. 

And Jaskier realises, as he sits by the fire, that his laughter isn’t faked. 

Ciri rubs at his hair with a towel, and his smile is...effortless. 

Once dry, they re-settle their bedrolls by the fire, and carry on talking until dawn. 

"Thank you." Jaskier says.

* * *

One night, Jaskier finishes his evening five mugs into Lambert’s famous homebrew, and laughs as Eskel, who is about as reliable an escort at this point as a godling with a sugar high, grabs his arm. 

“We are fucked.”

“We are fine.” Jaskier says. “Just...just...fine.”

“Which door is yours?”

“There’s only one door.”

Eskel squints. “Oh yeah.”

They laugh, open the door...

...and Geralt is standing by the fireplace when they enter the room. 

“Oh, Geralt.” Jaskier raises a hand. “If you’re looking for Ciri, she’s in Yennefer and Chireadan’s tent…”

“I know.” Gerelt says. “I’m here to talk to you.”

Eskel smiles. “Good luck getting a conversation out of him.”

Jaskier takes a deep breath, and nods. “I’ll be okay.”

“You sure.”

Jaskier nods again and Eskel claps his shoulder, before miraculously sobering as he throws Geralt a look that would probably kill a Fiend.

The door closes behind Jaskier, and he swallows.

Geralt is still looking at the fire. “I’ve been avoiding you, the last few days. I...Lambert told me about what happened, what you were planning to do. I didn’t want to make it worse. I’ve done that enough already.”

“And now?”

“Now I believe I won’t hurt you again.”

“Believe?”

Geralt nods.

“Should I trust you?”

Geralt takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I don’t know.”

“I want to.”

“I know.” Geralt whispers. “And I don’t know if you should.”

“Well, let’s find out together.”

Geralt finally turns to look at him. “Ciri, she’s reminded me a lot about myself.”

“That you’re a good person. That you CAN care. That...that it’s not a bad thing, having people needing you.”

“Do YOU need me?”

“I think I need everyone right now.” Jaskier hugs himself. “And, you know, Vesemir said that that’s okay. He said that one day someone will need me the same way and...and I will want to help them, the way everyone wants to help me now. And I won’t feel like it’s a burden. Because helping someone you LOVE is never a burden.”

Geralt doesn’t miss the emphasis. 

He nods. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like a burden.”

Jaskier doesn’t say anything. 

“Have you...thought about what you’re going to do in the spring?”

“I’m going to go back to Dol Angra, with Yennefer and Chireadan.” Jaskier smiles. “And...if they find a way to reverse what was done to Yen, I want to help with the baby. Be like their crazy uncle Jaskier.”

Geralt gives an amused hum.

“I’m sorry.” Jaskier says, after a moment. “I...I know that’s not what you wanted me to say.”

“I wanted you to tell me the truth. And you did.” Geralt smiles. “I know it will never be like it was before.”

“No. Jaskier shrugs. “But maybe it will be better.”

“How?”

“Because maybe this time you’ll let yourself need ME as well.” Jaskier says.

Geralt looks at him, really looks at him, and a part of Jaskier feels like he is being seen for the first time as the Witcher approaches him, reaching out and...after waiting for Jaskier’s nod, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck. He brings their foreheads together, eyes closed as he takes a deep breath in, the hand around Jaskier’s neck tightening ever so slightly. Gently. 

‘I’m here’ it says. 

And Jaskier doesn’t know if it’s the moment, or exhaustion making him reckless, or just Lambert’s fucking homebrew, but he tilts his head up, and kisses Geralt. 

Geralt’s entire body tenses, and Jaskier realises what he is doing in the same moment, his eyes opening and widening as he steps back, Geralt’s hand falling away.

“I...I’m...I…”

“Jaskier.” Geralt whispers. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not...I should have…”

“Shh. Jaskier.” Geralt says again, firmly. And the hand returns to the back of his neck, firm and secure and safe. “It’s okay.” 

And Jaskier can almost READ the emotions passing over the Witcher’s face before, finally, Geralt leans forward, pressing his lips to Jaskier’s forehead. 

They stay there for almost a minute, and then Geralt leans back, and encourages Jaskier’s head against his chest, against a heartbeat so fast for a Witcher that it almost matches a human’s resting pulse. And there’s another kiss in his hair before Geralt rests his chin against the bard’s head.

The Witcher hums. “Maybe it will be better.”

Jaskier closes his eyes, listening. Just listening to the steady heartbeat as it slowly...so slowly...returns to its normal rhythm beneath his ear.

He feels like his own heartbeat does the same. 

And he isn’t sure what this is. Are they friends? Brothers? More? Or maybe there is no label. Maybe they are just Geralt and Jaskier, and maybe that is okay. 

“I don’t forgive you.”

“Good.” Geralt hums.

“I will though.”

“Thank you.”

And Jaskier thinks that he won’t struggle to sleep tonight. 

And the smile on his face is effortless.

And Geralt is there.

* * *

The next day, Jaskier picks up his lute, and tunes it.

* * *

* * *

**Epilogue**

**Rosemary and Thyme tavern - Novigrad - 8 years later.**

* * *

“Zoltan, why am I looking at a neutral Gwent starter deck?”

“Merchant was selling it cheap.” The dwarf shrugs, a hand resting on the back of his own head. “Thought it might suit Yennefer and Chireadan’s little laddie.”

“He’s six?”

“Aye, he’ll grow into it.”

Jaskier chuckles, shaking his head as he picks up one of the cards from the deck.

And then drops it as, from the floors above them, they hear glass shatter. Then a bang. Another bang. More shattering. Broken furniture. Another bang. 

“Our little tavern appears to have some guests.” Jaskier says. 

Zoltan wastes no time in grabbing an axe and making for the stairs. “Stay behind me, Dandelion.”

“Must be desperate idiots if they are robbing US.”

Zoltan chuckles as he climbs the stairs, axe brandished. He runs for the door, kicking it open and screaming at…

...the witcher curled up in the middle of the floor, surrounded by broken furniture. 

“Lambert?”

“One of yours?” Zoltan lowers the axe, looking at his friend as he enters the room. 

Jaskier nods. “Zoltan...could you...could you step outside, please?”

The dwarf goes to the door, leaning the axe beside him and then folding his arms as he watches. 

“Lambert?” Jaskier takes in the scene. Broken furniture, a shattered mirror, and...in Lambert’s hand...a medallion. A cat school medallion. 

Oh no. 

“They killed him.” Lambert whispers.

Jaskier nods as he kneels down. “Come on, lean against me.”

To his surprise, Lambert does exactly that, letting Jaskier embrace him, his head resting against the bard’s chest.

“I’ve got you.” Jaskier whispers.

_He said that one day someone will need me the same way and...and I will want to help them, the way everyone wants to help me now._

“Dandelion?” Zoltan says from the door. “Need anything?”

“He um...he’s bleeding. His hands.” Jaskier says over his shoulder.

Zoltan nods, and goes to find their medical supplies.

Lambert blinks slowly as the bard rocks him, kissing the top of the witcher’s head. 

“You’re safe.” Jaskier whispers. “It’s safe here.”

_And I won’t feel like it’s a burden. Because helping someone you love is never a burden_

“I...” Lambert looks around, as if only now realising what he’s done to the room.

“It’s fine.” Jaskier shrugs. “You just needed the world to hurt like you are.” 

“They killed Aiden.” Lambert whispers. “He went on a contract with some bastard and they betrayed him. He...I always told him he was too trusting. Fucking idiot even trusted ME.”

Jaskier doesn’t say anything, just listens to Lambert’s rant as Zoltan returns with the bandages, quietly kneeling down and beginning work on the Witcher’s hands. 

“Why didn’t he listen? Why didn’t I GO with him?”

“Going to need to take this off you for a moment, laddie.” Zoltan says, pointing at the medallion. 

Jaskier reaches down, taking the medallion from Lambert and moving it up so that the disk is held against the Witcher’s chest.

Nodding, Zoltan gets to work cleaning and bandaging the injured hands. 

“I loved him…” Lambert whispers. 

“I know.” Jaskier whispers.

“I’m going to kill them. The bastards that took him away. I’m going to tear them apart.”

“I know.” Jaskier smiles. “But not tonight. Stay with me, tonight.”

Lambert nods, and closes his eyes again. 

“I’ll look after you.” Jaskier whispers. “Just rest. I’ve got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who has read, kudosed, bookmarked and commented on this series. I've loved writing it. Thank you for joining my crazy head cannon, and stay safe <3 <3 <3


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